Chapter 6
The lecture began.
The “Swordsmanship Practice” class taught by Professor Derek was closer to training than a lecture. Its main activities were swinging swords, sparring, and sometimes joining hunts to exterminate low-grade magical beasts.
Even without this being a lecture, these were things every student in the Swordsmanship Department did anyway. That was why the Swordsmanship Practice class was always popular.
If we had to do it anyway, it was nice to earn credits for it too.
And above all, wasn’t the Swordsmanship Department mostly made up of physical types? Many people preferred sweating and moving their bodies to studying theory until their heads cramped in the classroom.
However, today’s lecture lacked its usual vitality. The reason was simple. The students who should have been focusing on training were all paying attention to someone.
That “someone” was, needless to say, me. My head was already throbbing.
Everyone was looking at me with eager anticipation, but to be honest, I had no confidence that I could beat Seria. I didn’t even know what trick I had used last week.
There was at least one clue. “Because I only fight magical beasts, my muscles are honest.” But no matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t understand what it meant.
Was I supposed to watch how my opponent’s muscles moved amid the frantic exchanges?
Even if I had that level of observational skill, I couldn’t possibly know what was happening beneath their clothes. It was a true conundrum.
After struggling with it for a long time without finding an answer, I was now swinging my sword in a half-resigned state.
Perhaps because the tension had left my body, my sword path was clean. Come to think of it, my mana capacity seemed to have increased a little, and my mana channels seemed considerably wider too.
What on earth had happened during the past week? The question rose once again, but I soon tamped down my curiosity.
Even so, I was still nowhere near Seria Yurdina’s level. She was someone who had spent her entire life honing a God-given talent. Catching up to that gap within a week was impossible.
As I swung my sword absently, Professor Derek had approached my side before I knew it.
Brown hair, a scar running across the center of his face, and a bulky, bronze-colored body.
He had such a sturdy build that it was hard to believe he was about to enter his later years. It was the rugged, powerful physique of a man who had once roamed every forbidden region in pursuit of magical beasts.
He watched me swing my sword with his arms folded, then spoke in a satisfied voice.
“You’ve shed your killing intent.”
“……”Pardon?
Faced with that sudden compliment, I could do nothing but ask in response. Despite my incredulous stare, Professor Derek merely smiled and nodded. His hand stroked his bushy beard.
“I said you shed your killing intent. Very well done. The sword you wielded last time had been consumed by the purpose of killing someone. Of course, if you reach the proper level, it may give birth to a terrifying killing sword. But there’s no meaning in becoming a person who feels nothing when taking a life.”
He seemed to be talking about the “mindset theory” that old swordsmen blindly believed in. Of course, the importance of the mind in swordsmanship was practically common knowledge.
That was because it was the mind, not the body, that controlled mana. One had to form an image in the mind to advance to a higher level. There was a good reason the academy forcibly made swordsmen sit through theory lessons and meditate.
However, in recent years, this “mindset theory” had also faced various challenges. Some swordsmen tended to interpret it as a kind of “the mind can do anything” theory, and criticism had arisen that such an idea was rather unscientific.
Training could only achieve maximum efficiency when combined with adequate rest and nutrition. Yet some swordsmen swung their swords to the point of exhaustion based on the mindset theory. They claimed that was the only way to train the mind as well.
It was a foolish notion. At least swordsmen of the younger generation no longer followed such training methods—unless they were children of high-ranking nobles who could use healing potions like water.
The idea that one’s sword path changed according to one’s mindset was also a characteristic of swordsmen who blindly believed in that mindset theory. Unless one had reached the level of manifesting a mental image through one’s sword path, a sword simply swung wherever it was directed.
When he met my dubious gaze, Professor Derek clicked his tongue. His reaction seemed to say he had expected this.
“Do you think I’m wrong? But I know very well how much mental strength helps in a fight to the death. When you’re driven into a crisis, it’s as though some latent potential is forcibly awakened.”
This was bad. At this rate, I would have to listen to Professor Derek’s war stories for tens of minutes. While I was coming up with a suitable excuse to escape his old-story hell, Professor Derek continued speaking with even greater pride.
“And above all, if you don’t balance body and mind, you’re bound to expose openings. For example, your mind may find a way out, but your body can’t follow through, or you may be inexperienced at hiding your intentions, allowing the signs of them to show plainly in your body……”
“Yes, I understand, Professor Dere—wait a moment. You said someone could be inexperienced at hiding their intentions?”
I had been planning to offer polite agreement in moderation, but Professor Derek’s next words startled me into asking him to repeat himself.
“Inexperienced at hiding one’s intentions.” It was a nuance I had heard somewhere before.
Professor Derek seemed pleased that a young person was taking an interest in his words. He became even more animated and began laying out more of his experiences.
“Right, you still lack experience fighting intelligent opponents, don’t you? You can’t learn this through sparring. There’s an instinct you can only acquire where life and death hang in the balance…… It doesn’t matter when you’re fighting a low-level enemy, but against a high-level opponent, you get a feeling. Ah, that fellow has seen through everything I’m going to do……”
“No, is that actually possible?”
My question cut into his endless speech, and Professor Derek closed his mouth and stared blankly at me.
But I couldn’t understand it. You could “get a feeling”? How on earth were you supposed to know?
“Isn’t that impossible by common sense? It’s hard enough just to exchange blows with your opponent, and you’re saying you can notice signs of what they’re about to do in the middle of that?”
Perhaps he found my question amusing, because Professor Derek stroked his beard once more and let out a low chuckle. His answer, however, did not change.
“Yes, it’s possible. Of course, I once thought the same way you do. ‘Isn’t that all just bluffing?’ But the world of masters is broad and deep. You’ll understand someday.”
With that, Professor Derek patted my shoulder several times with his huge hand and turned to leave. I was lost in thought for a moment, then called out before he got any farther away.
“Professor Derek.”
He glanced back, his deep blue eyes fixing me with a stare. I hurriedly asked my question before his interest could cool.
“……Then how many people among us have reached that level?”
Professor Derek let out a snort of laughter, as though he had heard an amusing question.
“None of you can! You’d have to be the top student or runner-up at the very least—and even then, third-year or above?”
In other words, even Seria had not reached that level. The level of concealing one’s moves and sensing one’s opponent’s intentions.
Then the clue seemed to be pointing in this direction after all, but one decisive problem remained.
I hadn’t reached that level either.
The answer was coming faintly into focus, yet I lacked the ability to choose it.
What a miserable state of affairs. I let out a deep sigh and glanced toward the place where I felt a faintly stinging gaze.
Seria Yurdina stood there, her eyes hard as frost.
Right. I’m dead.
In my mind, I left my last words to my parents, my older brother, my younger sister, Leto, and Selin.
I had a feeling today was going to be a long day.
**
“Um, Senior Ian.”
It was near the end of the lecture.
Everyone was polishing their swords, preparing for the next lecture, or enjoying a brief moment of leisure.
I was fooling around with Selin and praying that the day would pass peacefully.
But the god Arus must have been deeply dissatisfied with my usual religious devotion, because he ruthlessly trampled on my wish.
Seria Yurdina was standing right in front of me.
She was beautiful no matter how often I saw her. Her gray hair gave off an antique rather than gloomy impression, and even her perpetually stiff expression complemented her beauty, emphasizing the loveliness of an ice sculpture.
How unfortunate that a woman this beautiful felt to me like nothing more than a grim reaper from the afterlife.
It was a miserable state of affairs. At Seria’s sudden appearance, Selin, who had been fooling around with me, immediately stiffened as well.
The reason Seria had come to find me was obvious. I could tell just from the fact that every student in the class was staring at us.
The spectators’ eyes glittered with anticipation.
“I-I’d like to ask you for a match…… Ngh! W-Would you be willing to spar with me?”
It was revenge.
She must have bitten her tongue once because she was so nervous, but in any case, that seemed to be her purpose.
Seria’s face turned bright red. With her head bowed deeply, she looked quite cute. If only she had been a little more sociable, she would have received all the seniors’ affection.
Yet even that cuteness felt threatening to me now. It made it even harder to refuse her proposal.
She was swallowing her embarrassment and asking a senior for instruction. Was I supposed to run away?
And that wasn’t all. Before today’s lecture began, I had confidently told Tean that we would probably have a round later and that I wanted to warm up.
If I had known the situation was this serious, I never would have said something like that.
At that moment, Selin volunteered to be my white knight. She fidgeted anxiously, floundering for a while, then spoke as though she had just thought of something.
“Ah, ah! Come to think of it, Ian oppa has plans with me afterward……”
“It’s fine.”
But before the lifeline she had thrown me could even fall, I cut her off in a resigned tone. Selin looked at me with a crestfallen expression.
At first, she had claimed she wouldn’t care whether I lived or died, but apparently that had only been empty talk. I took comfort in her reaction and gave her a bitter smile.
“You want to spar one way or another, don’t you? If not today, then tomorrow.”
“……Yes.”
Seria nodded quietly, but with firm resolve. If that was the case, there was no point in avoiding her now.
A day or two wouldn’t suddenly produce some brilliant solution. If anything, I would only spend the intervening time feeling pursued, with my blood running cold.
Even if I had to take a beating, it was better to get it over with early. In the end, I had no choice but to nod.
“All right, then let’s have a match.”
Perhaps she was happy that I had agreed, because Seria’s cold face suddenly brightened. I could almost see an exclamation point appear over her head. It was a smile like a single blossoming flower.
Regardless, I merely clicked my tongue and walked toward the sparring arena in the center of the swordsmanship training grounds.
Today was a write-off. Still, at least I wouldn’t lose points for being absent due to illness, I thought.
Amid the murmurs, Professor Derek gave his permission, and we took wooden swords and moved to opposite ends of the sparring arena.
I stared into those cold, aquamarine-like eyes, but I couldn’t read what lay within. I needlessly cursed Professor Derek under my breath.
So much for sensing signs. I couldn’t tell a thing.
Then there was only one answer. Thinking that, I took my stance. And then, together with Professor Derek’s booming cry announcing the start of the spar—
“Then, begin!”
I had to watch Seria rush right up to my face with a whoosh! The next moment, my body went flying through the air with a dull thud.